Artwork Raphael Tiberno
Book One:
Dayzy’s Louzy Lover
Her 2423 South 21st Street Saga of Mashup Poetry Stories
Thanks to Alberto Mielgo, creator of ‘The Witness’ and ‘Jibaro,’ and to David Fincher and Tim Miller for ‘Love Death and Robots.’
Chapter 1. Death Comes At Any Hour. But In Pastel Kong The Morning Hour Is Preferred
1. Pastel Kong, Asia 2034 CE vs Pale Coban, Guatemala 1600 CE
a. colors You call to me when the lake brightens. You are silence. Look how the shifting skies have tumbled these pastel colors down.
The colors fall like rain in gentle neon pinks, soft electric blues, greens, and sometimes, sparingly, dashes of bright red. She has no eyes for the colors outside the window behind her.
Dayzy hears his footsteps on the stairs. He’s moving slowly, taking his time, no longer in a rush. She keeps very still, very quiet.
b. song What’s that faint music coming through the window? From somewhere far away she hears an old long-forgotten song, a song she once knew intimately, maybe as a child. A song her Grandmother might have sung to her.
Or maybe the wind is stirring chimes in a tree in the distance and she’s only just hearing snatches of it. For a moment her fear disappears, her heart stops racing. But only for a moment.
She says: “Why do I feel like he knows I’m here? The Bloody Man! I must be mistaken. I ran up the steps, tried one door after the other. They were all locked. Only this door was open.”
c. asleep in the water Here comes the song again, her Grandmother’s wind chime melody. Now it’s water she remembers. A lake. A place where she once belonged. It was her home.
She’s in the shallow water, a shady place where reeds grow. She’s under the water on her back, looking up. The water is three or four feet deep here.
The sunlight passing through the water breaks up into shiny golden pieces, like little golden squares or rectangles that slip and slide past one another. She closes her eyes and sleeps.
She’s asleep in the water three or four feet below the surface. What is this strange, strange waking dream?
But the Bloody Man is at the apartment door. Dayzy Maze has work to do.
d. first light Earlier, in the pre-dawn stillness, with the first light softening the sky, Pachenko in his apartment and Dayzy Maze across the street in her hotel room had locked eyes.
From window to window they stared at one another, each held captive by the other’s gaze.
She had been standing before the mirror applying her makeup. Then a scream startled her. She jumped. And she dragged her lipstick across her cheek, a long purple streak. Then she turned, looked out the window.
The quiet returned, and she went back to her mirror.
Then a second scream, a final, fatal scream, woke the street’s dogs and birds. Dayzy, frightened, went to the window. She saw the Bloody Man in the building across the street. He stood in his apartment window splattered in blood.
He stared at her persistently, as if he knew her.
e. exit In a panic she grabbed her purple bag, tossed her red kimono and a few other clothes over her arm, didn’t bother to wake the man still asleep in the bed. A few bills were on the table next to his glasses.
She scooped the bills into her purple bag, ran out the door and into the street and jumped in a cab. She was headed for her dawn gig at Winkel Spot’s Spore Club. She figured she gave the Bloody Man the slip.
f. the chase But Pachenko followed her in his cab to the Spore Club. Later she fled from the Spore, and he chased her through the still-empty Pastel Kong morning streets. How she screamed as he gained on her! For a guy who waddles when he runs, he sure runs fast.
They ran through an alley, she pulled down a pile of high stacked boxes behind her and he went stumbling, tumbling, falling. She turned a corner at high speed, snuck into an apartment building, ran up a couple flights of stairs, found an unlocked apartment door, and poked her head in.
The owner was absent. She entered, locked the door behind her, waited. She was safe. Finally.
g. unlocked door Somehow Pachenko guessed she was in the building. He walked slowly up the stairs, paused on the landing, took a few more steps and stopped in front of the apartment door.
Her eyes widened, her right hand moved toward the flimsy purple bag slung over her left shoulder. The door handle turned, then stopped. Thank god she had locked it.
She stoond in the apartment’s short wide hallway. A mirror was to her right. Behind her were two half doors, the entry to the bedroom. Past them, an unmade double bed.
A fumbling noise, and the door handle again turned. This time the door opened. The Bloody Man had a key.
h. mirror, window In Pale Coban, Guatemala, circa 1600 CE, Dayzy Maze rose up out of the water of her lake. She was bent sideways, ragged, raped, bloody. Her golden mask, gone. Her crown with the arcing headpiece, gone.
The gold and jewels and pearls, once woven through her tight garment, had all been torn away violently, crudely, cruelly.
She said: “Where are my precious things? I’m a naked woman. Oh, the shame. The shame!” Her first scream was almost tender, timid. Feeble, uncertain, afraid.
She screamed again. This scream was less tender. Pachenko, pulled into the shallow water by her first, tentative scream, stumbled, splashed, stood up.
i. it’s him Now she remembered who was the cause of her suffering. It was him. The man on the shore. Who now looked at her, surprised, from the shallow water.
Pachenko laughed. His mind shivered, fractured like the light in the sky had fractured.
Water is a mirror and a window, both. As a mirror the water shows Pachenko the sky. He laughs, speaks to the sky, says: “This is funny, very funny, Mr Stupid Sky! She’s got me now. I’m not getting away this time.
“Nobody gets away the second time. My luck has run out. Ha!
j. only a nap As a window the water shows him his companions dead at the bottom of the lake. His fellow warriors rest there, drowned by the songs, the screaming songs of Dayzy Maze, the vengeful wilderness demi-goddess whose gold they had stolen.
Pachenko says: “Look, it’s me down there too! I’m already dead on the bottom of her lake. I look so happy, so peaceful. But it’s only a short rest, only a nap. I’m just sleeping.
“Soon I’ll wake up and swim back to the surface. Then I’ll saddle my horse and ride out of this valley. I’ll take the screaming woman’s jewels and gold with me and I’ll go home across the sea. That’s what I’ll do!”
2. love is a hard road full of many winding detours
a. let’s talk The door to Pachenko’s apartment opened. Dayzy retreated, her hand went into her flimsy purple bag. The bag slipped from her shoulder, fell into the crook of her elbow.
Pachenko raised both hands, palms facing her, said: “Wow, you sure made me chase you. You can really run, Dayzy Maze. Let’s just talk.
“I don’t know why you’re running from me. You love me. And I love you with my whole heart and soul. We fucked our brains out last night. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Her hand in the bag held the gun, but the gun snagged as she tried to pull it out. Her eyes never left his. He stepped inside the door, his hands still out in front, palms facing her.
She finally got the gun out of the bag. With both hands she leveled it at Pachenko.
b. vinyl At 5 AM the first scream had pierced Dayzy’s hotel window. She was in front of the hotel mirror putting on her lipstick. The man she’d spent the night with was still asleep in the bed behind her.
She turned to her right and looked out the window. In the building across the street, the curtains in the window of an apartment on the second floor were open.
Soon the morning silence returned. Dogs, ruffled, rolled over, went back to snoring. The alerted birds flapped a little, settled back in.
Dayzy said: “That scream was nothing. A simple quarrel. Girls and guys. That’s the story of.”
She looked into her mirror, said: “Oh no, look what I’ve done. A purple streak. The scream! My jumpy hand dragged the bright purple lipstick streak across my cheek. I’m Dayzy the Clown!
She said: “This lipstick is hard to wipe off. That’s why I love it. So plasticky. Like vinyl. I love polyvinyl chloride. It’s supernaturally real.
“Mother Nature doesn’t make it. Men don’t make it either, though they claim they do. I say it must’ve dropped down from Outer Space. On a polyvinyl asteroid.”
c. 24-sided Persephone’s sky, her delicate shining atmosphere, is in trouble. Already her blue mantle is receiving disquieting information from very distant locales, specifically, from the Hydra-Centaurus Supercluster.
If Hydra is involved, then so is the Hercules Constellation. Hercules says: “I thought I destroyed that damn Hydra thing. I’m always confused. Anyway, my goal is Persephone. I’ll slip past ever-vigilant Virgo. And I’ll beat Hydra to the punch.
“I may be big, but I’m sneaky too. Lord Dionysus Bacchus, Perseus! Why are they involved in Persephone’s business? I don’t care. I’m the guy! I’m gonna love Persephone for 50 days and 50 nights. She’ll soon become a happy dish rag in my loving arms.”
He says: “They say the sum of the interior angles of a 24-sided polygon, an icositetragon, is 3960°. Which is the radius of the Earth in miles. So Persephone is 24-sided. Is that right? She sure has a lot of sides! But hey, I’m Hercules.
“Not my strong suit, though. Math.”
d. big circle At dawn the second, fatal scream woke the dogs and birds. Now crazy barking dogs raised the alarm. Flapping birds, totally pissed, flew off squawking. Their dark flocks filled the empty skies between the buildings.
Pachenko ran out of his apartment building at high speed in pursuit of Dayzy Maze.
He followed her in his cab. She went to the Spore Club. Later, in a big circle, the chase finally over, they came back to his apartment.
It’s just a big circle, folks, like a carnival merry-go-round. Lights flashing, music playing. Painted horsies going up and down.
And at the end, the prize. A bullet in the chest. Or maybe two.
e. the chase In the apartment, both hands on the grip, she levels the gun at him. A long purple lipstick streak crosses her cheek.
Earlier, at dawn, Pachenko had gunned her down, accidentally, when they struggled over the gun in the bedroom of his apartment. Her dead body was still leaking blood at his feet, the blood gathering in a widening pool, when he saw her in the hotel window across the street.
Two Dayzy Mazes, one at his feet, the other in the window.
They locked eyes. He wanted to explain to her that he hadn’t meant to shoot her. It was her gun that had fired as they struggled. But she wouldn’t let him cross the street to the hotel and explain what had happened.
She ran from the hotel, jumped in a cab. He chased her in his own cab. She went to Winkel Spot’s Spore Club and, later, he chased her from the Spore Club and they ran through Pastel Kong’s early morning streets. The first transparent pastel colors were already flowing down.
Now once again, here they are, back in his apartment.
He walks through his apartment door, hands upraised, and he’s saying, “Dayzy, let’s just talk.”
f. shiny vinyl Pachenko says: “Where’d you get that gun? Beretta 9 millimeter, silver, a nice piece. Is it loaded? It’s loaded! You’re pointing a loaded gun at me.” Hands out, he takes a careful step toward her. She steps back.
He says: “You can kill somebody with that thing. We spent all last night fucking our brains out. Where’s the crime in that? In the morning you ran and ran. You acted like I was a stranger. You went to that crazy Spore Club and I followed you. Mister Mom gave me a free membership. That was nice.
“The so-called gimpys, the people in shiny skin-tight black vinyl suits, the ones who party at the Spore Club day and night. Who are they? I’ve never seen so much shiny vinyl.
“Dayzy, please put down the gun. Let’s just talk.”
g. fortune cookie He takes another step, she retreats. He says: “Who were you with this morning in the hotel room across the street? You can tell me, I won’t be mad. Tell me his name. Is he as handsome as me? Does he wear glasses? I know how much you love men with glasses.
“Do you even know his name? I bet you don’t. He probably just left a few crumpled bills on the table. It’s a nice hotel, though. Very clean bathrooms.
Another step, then: “Jeezus, Dayzy! Loving you is like breaking open a fortune cookie and there’s no fortune inside. Should you eat the cookie or toss it away? Maybe it’s bad luck eating a no-fortune fortune cookie. I never had one until I met you.
“I don’t care if you’re good luck or bad luck. Either way, I want you.
“I’ll wear a t-shirt showing me falling off a cliff. The caption will read, ‘I Love Dayzy Maze.’
Hands out, palms facing her, he takes another careful step toward her. She takes a step back.
He says: “It’s a hard road loving you, Dayzy Maze.”
3. dayzy, draw us a pastel tree
a. the b sharp seventh In Pastel Kong, Asia in 2034 CE, the pastel light flows down slowly in long drops, and under its impact solid objects become more and more transparent, joyfully so, with real zest.
The watery pastel light is very pleasing to kids and their parents.
One night the crowd gathered to watch the pastel light show. Dayzy stood off to the side, her hood up against the chill. She said: “So many oohs and aahs. But I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
“It’s breaking up my song, my wind chime song. The chimes keep going flat on the B sharp seventh. Phooey. The tone should be a bright, happy purple. Instead it’s a dull, moody, muddy red blue.
“Animals flag that color. They say, ‘Don’t eat it, poison!’ It’s how they know what’s good and bad without reading about it in books.
“I wish I knew where my wind chime song comes from. If I knew I’d go there and re-tune the chimes until they were just right.”
b. fig no leaf Dayzy’s in a small, little known cafe on a tiny back alley in the dead center of Pastel Kong. The cafe’s called ‘Fig No Leaf.’
The virtual artwork on the walls catches your eye, but don’t blink. The art’s imagined worlds are always changing. Maybe a sky of capering clouds becomes an evergreen forest becomes a crowd of hip-hop kids dancing.
Did you know clouds can dance among smiling evergreen trees, or that hip-hop kids, so vapory and white, can soar in the sky? For those who live at the crossroads where imagined becomes real and vice versa, it’s easy to comprehend.
A patron over coffee might raise a hand, bid on a piece, take the artwork home on a wavy laser leash. Artists come in and out of the Fig, their dancing images following faithfully behind, not always obediently.
c. houdini The artists in the Fig have a square peg in a round hole look, a kind of wide-eyed unconscious staring as though they’re on the edge of their seats waiting for the next magic moment to arrive.
When they see Dayzy they say, “Hey, it’s Sunny Dayz! Our Night in Shining Amor. Give us a smile to light our way.”
Dayzy smiles her high noon smile, says, “Nine to five to zero. No clocks need apply. Still chasing the dream. Don’t ever grow up, you true believers.”
She looks out the window, says, “The daily news puts the ticking clock on a pedestal. Sleight-of-hand, Houdini. Control your attention, control you. I do it too when I dance but at least you get something in return. Me.”
d. unlovely Dayzy sips her drink, frowns, says, “Cold. Ice will do that.” Then she says: “I’ve never been a fan of the transparent pinks and blues in the sky. Everyone makes such a fuss over them. Like those parents and their kids who gawk at all the strange loveliness.
“Look at the Fractal QR Codes, the virtual waving rectangles on display in our Pastel Kong skies, even they step back for a moment, pause, and put their constant subliminal insinuations temporarily on hold.
“Isn’t it crazy? Even the Codes are enamored. When the pastel light shines they stop flashing their wares. In all the places where they hang out and shoot the virtual shit, up and down and in-between our Pastel Kong high-rises, they pause and they gawk.
“But I don’t think the pastel light is lovely at all. Well, maybe only a little.”
Dayzy fiddles with the drink in front of her, says: “Maybe I should’ve gotten a coffee, like you. Wow, here’s something I just remembered.”
e. grandmom She signals for another drink, takes out a cigarette but tosses it down on the table, as if angry at it, says: “I love smoke. I just don’t like inhaling it.
“I remember the box of pastel crayons I had as a kid. At least, I think it was me who had the box of pastels. Unless it was Janice next door. No, it was me. Janice was chubby, with bangs. She was big, I was small.
“My Grandmom bought the pastel crayons for me. Grandmom was old but very active, strong. She looked me straight in the eye, and I felt happy when she did. She didn’t know what I was all about but that’s ok, neither did I.
“But I knew what I liked and what I didn’t like, that’s for sure.
“It was different with Mom. When she looked at me I felt like a little girl in a tafetta pink dress with bows in my hair and nails perfectly filed. Wearing shiny white patent shoes which Mom shined.”
f. chuck taylor She says: “Mom kept the shoe shine stuff in a big closet in the bathroom. It was the biggest closet full of stuff you’ve ever seen. It was deep, really deep, with lots of shelves, and everything was perfectly organized.
“Mom was a master of organizing stuff. It was like her religion. And if it was pills in a little twist-top plastic bottle, Mom never threw it out.
“I loved my low-top black Chuck Taylor Converses. I didn’t know who Chuck was, but he sure knew how to make cool sneakers. Mom had to fight to get me in a dress. And she didn’t like my Chuck Taylors either. I guess because she couldn’t shine them.
“She was always grabbing them when I was asleep and throwing them in the washing machine.
g. poof “I loved my pastels so much I didn’t want to use them. Because if I used them I wouldn’t have them anymore, like cake. My pastels looked so pretty sitting in their hand-crafted wooden box with the little gold colored clasp.
“And when I did use them, they left behind such a nice dusty powder on the paper. You could huff and puff, and with a poof just blow the little pastel cloud off the paper. Like this, look.”
With her hand in front of her face, palm up, she purses her lips and blows softly. Sure enough, a small dusty cloud takes off. “That’s a little trick I know,” she says, smiling.
h. galoshes Dayzy smiles at a child who sits with her Mom by the big plate glass window: “Ice cream. At this time of day. What a lucky kid.
“Oh I loved my pastels! I’m sure it was me who had the pastels, not Janice. Janice was a big little girl, she had freckles, short hair pulled up in two bangs behind her head.
“She’d say, ‘I love the sky when it’s blue, and I love the sky when it’s gray too. I always love the sky! I like rain because if you go outside when it rains, you get wet.’
i. 9/18 “Her Mom didn’t make her wear a big rain coat and hat and galoshes like we had to when it rained and you were going to school. What kid wants to wear galoshes? Not much fun stomping in puddles when you’re wearing galoshes.
“Once Janice’s Dad said to me, ‘Dayzy Maze, how much is 9 divided by 18?’ I said, ‘9 divided by 18 is a walk in the park with your doggy on a leash, and when he poops you hope nobody notices you forgot to bring the plastic bag to clean it up.’
“And Mr Freck said to his wife, ‘Now that’s the kind of thinking they can’t teach you in school!’
“The whole Freck family was a little nuts. Later, Mrs Freck had a baby boy. I forget what she named him, but it was something silly like Smiley, or Speedy. Or maybe it was Chuff. Or even Tungsten. Could it have been Parallel? Oh, I forget.”
j. dorothy Dayzy says: “Do you ever try to remember your very first memory? My first memory is Dorothy and Toto. And her Scarecrow and Tin Man and Lion.
“All of us sat in front of the tv in Grandmom’s house on a Sunday afternoon around Easter time when the network played the movie. I guess this was in 2018. Or was it 1958? I was born in 2015. I’m always mixing up my memories with other people’s memories.
“They played The Wizard of Oz every year. The kids sat on the rug on the floor and the adults sat on the couch and the chairs. How I loved Dorothy’s dog Toto! I couldn’t wait to see him once the movie started. Toto was the smartest dog I’ve ever seen. If I get a dog I’ll name him or her Toto.
k. candles Dayzy waves at someone passing in the street. Her friend wears a bike helmet, holds the bike beside her as she walks. Dayzy says: “I don’t like bikes. It feels like you’re cheating.
“I kept my pastels in my special drawer. It was a deep drawer in my desk and it had a ton of cool stuff. Magical, secret stuff. Kids are the greatest magicians of all.
“One time we came home at night and our vestibule door was locked. Robbers had broken into our house while we were gone.
“They took candles from the dining room table and went around the house searching. What kind of dopey robbers don’t even bring their own flashlights?
“And years later, maybe four or five years later, in the very bottom of my drawer, the big drawer in my desk in my bedroom, I found wax that had dripped from the candles the robbers used. That was spooky!
“But they didn’t steal anything from my drawer.”
l. tree, candles She says:”The robbers didn’t know how special the things in my deep drawer were. Thank goodness. Or they would’ve taken all of it. They just wanted money. And they never bothered looking at our tree in the yard, either.
“You could see our tree out the windows in my bedroom. Nobody steals a tree. But it was so valuable!
“I never found wax on our tree. Which proves to me the robbers weren’t out there searching the tree to see if it was worth stealing.”
m. stars at war “In later years we’d sit outside under the tree at night, hang out til midnight or later. In those days you could still see a few stars, but only a few. All the rest were gone. My friends said the stars had moved, and that’s why we didn’t see them anymore.
“My idea is different. I say maybe the stars are coming our way. They’re moving all right, but they’re moving toward us!
“It’s a big showdown. The stars are going to war. Soon they’ll be right here upon us. That’s a scary thought. I don’t know where I get these ideas.”
4. a large universe in a small nutshell
a. two windows In Pachenko’s Pastel Kong apartment, Dayzy Maze, blood spattered, the gun in her hand, looks down at the man who pursued her so relentlessly back and forth across Pastel Kong, from Hotel True Blue to Winkel Spot’s Spore Club and then back to the apartment building across the street from the hotel.
He’s dead at her feet. She gunned him down. They tussled, yelled, fought. But when the gun went off it was pointing at him, not her. He took two bullets in the chest.
She studies his body on the floor. A brief smile of triumph crosses her face, and she breathes deeply. Victory is sweet.
Then she turns to her left and across the street she sees a man in Hotel True Blue looking out the window. He’s steadily watching her.
It’s him, the man she just killed, the Bloody Man, the same man who chased her across town! He’s alive in the hotel across the street.
But he’s also dead at her feet, two bullets in his chest, the blood still leaking out, a slowly widening pool of blood.
b. smoking gun In the hotel across the street Pachenko is staring steadily through his window at Dayzy Maze. And now she’s staring steadily through her window at him.
At first Pachenko is puzzled by what he sees. A bloody woman in a window across the street holds a still smoking gun.
Screams, terrible screams, had awakened him. He reached across the bed for the woman he’d spent the night with but she was gone.
His eyes narrow and suddenly he knows. The woman in the window, holding a smoking gun, the smoke still curling up beside her face, must have fired the shots. She murdered the man whose screams woke him up.
She murdered the man who must now be dead at her feet.
c. evil eye Dayzy looks at the man dead at her feet, then back at the man in the window. She says: “Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. The Bloody Man is dead. I shot him twice. But here’s the same Bloody Man still living and alive, wearing his glasses, standing in the window of the hotel across the street. And he’s giving me the evil eye.”
Pachenko says: “The woman in the window across the street is a murderer. She must be brought to justice. I know a rat when I see one. I’m calling the police. Look, she still holds the gun in her hand. And it’s still smoking!”
Which is true enough. Dayzy has the gun in her right hand, she looks to her left out the window, the gun she holds beside her face is pointing up, and a small cloud of gunsmoke trails up and away from the gun.
Dayzy’s proud of her gun, her smoking gun. She’s proud of what she’s done. She has triumphed over her persistent, unwanted aggressor.
She fought for her life in a conflict which she did not initiate, and she was victorious.
d. reflections In Pale Coban, Guatemala, circa 1600 CE, the sky shifted. It happened when Pachenko saw the bold blue sky behind him in the watery mirror of Dayzy Maze’s lake.
Though only the smallest shiver of a shift, yet it was a decisive moment. The great birds high above heard the sky’s first shiver, tiny crackling sounds like ice thawing, a sliding and a scraping, how Earth’s tectonic plates must sound when they collide and grind.
The shift happened when Pachenko was drawn into the shallow water by Dayzy’s first tentative screaming song. Soon he would join his warrior companions at the bottom of her lake.
He saw in the mirror of Dayzy’s lake the bold blue sky behind him. If he had raised his face to the sky, if he had shielded his eyes with his hand and looked long and hard, he would’ve never seen the sky’s first shivering fracture.
It would not have appeared directly to his gaze, it can only be seen by us in reflection.
e. very deep, cold Only the reflection in the watery mirror of her lake, the image he saw in the water before he surrendered to her song and joined the other warriors at the bottom of her lake, only this reflection showed him the first shifting of the sky, its fracture and its shudder, showed him the damage done to the sky by all those who like himself serve only their own partail purposes, and not the purposes of the whole.
When he sees the shift he knows he’s going down down down to the bottom of her very deep very cold lake. He knows it without a doubt, and he finds it funny.
Great birds, of course, don’t need the reflected image. They can perceive the shift directly. Why? Because they soar. One strong thrust of their wings, a thrust which comes from the very center of their bodies and not merely from the shoulders, as small bird do, allows them to find the winds and ride them.
Little birds don’t soar. To stay aloft they must constantly flap their wings. They can’t ride the wind like the great birds do. Only those who ride the wind like the great birds can perceive the shift directly.
f. pi power Pachenko says: “Now I will prophesize. Imminent death gives me that right. The lonely pi constant raised to the pi power, divided by the sneaky euler constant raised to the euler power, equals 2.4! It’s the story of constants, the battle between what’s true, i.e., permanent, and what’s false, i.e., what’s ever changing.
“And vice versa, meaning, it keeps reversing. So what’s true becomes what’s false etcetera etcetera. It’s enough to drive a non-drinking person to drink. True and False take turns at who’s top dog, like pulling petals from a daisy. You know, She loves me, she loves me not. Hmm.
“In the future a Scarecrow will confirm my point of view. It’s the iTetragon, baby! Once Persephone builds all 24 of them, look out! Call it the Cat’s Cradle of Persephone. Beware, all you who enter. The door disappears as soon as you pass through.”
Pachenko must be a true visionary. Dying, nearly dead, still he’s making predictions.
g. finally Certain points of view are better kept under water where the cool depths help preserve a watery version of them. Pachenko’s point of view is a case in point.
The high flying birds felt the sky’s first shimmery shiver, and their calls, their cries to the Goddess were heard. Great birds often provide early warnings to the higher ups.
Persephone said: “Selene, please open the curtains of our great window. Only you with your white light, the true white light and not this phony white light being sold by swindlers in the marketplace nowadays, can open it.
She says: “This window’s view reaches far beyond the realms of my two lovers, Helios and Sagittarius A, the unwitting fathers of my self-aware creatures. But it’s dangerous for even a Goddess to look too far into the depths of infinite space and time. Even if infinite space and time are not infinite.”
h. ask superman The curtains are drawn, and the two Goddesses face immense landscapes appearing and reappearing in seemingly endless fractal scales. The 2nd, 3rd and 4th fractal scales of our Universe don’t use light in the way our eyes here at the first, the foundational or “observable” fractal scale do.
Like the comic books tell us, there’s no such thing as light, not as we conceive it, anyway. At each higher fractal scale, Light is a very different being than what it was at its previous scale.
For example, we say, “Light shines.” If only it really did shine, all our problems would be over. We could float along like angels on the wings of God. Instead, we grovel and, proudly, call ourselves proud. Light is a being, not a phenomenon. So says Oz.
Dayzy the Maiden Wizard of Oz, that is.
Light arrives at our doorstep with its nearly infinite array of appearances. It laughs when we scoop them up and greedily drink them down. Light’s bottomless well is truly bottomless.
Ask Superman if he agrees. Just make sure you catch him before he enters his phone booth. Once his glasses come off he can’t see a thing.
i. Virgo The stars are like little schoolyard children happily playing while their mothers sit nearby and chat. Star systems are only patches of fog on a bright morning, subject to wind, brief spouts of rain.
And galaxies are minor landscapes, small areas sketched out on a much greater map never comprehended in its entirety.
The curtains pulled aside reveal the figure of a woman. Whether she’s near or far is impossible to say. Perhaps both. Her robes don’t conceal her breasts, her arms, her legs. Her pure nakedness always shines through.
Her form is much too vivid. All clothes are powerless to conceal her true beauty.
She’s a woman who gives birth to many, many different types of beings. Sometimes she’s called “Fire of Shiva.”
Stars fall, tumble from her hands. The stars flare, glitter, go out. She’s Virgo. The human mind is unable to comprehend the light which emanates from the Goddess Virgo Supercluster.
j. the futility of eyes When she turns toward us, favors us with a smile, our eyes fail us and we see nothing. Too bad for us. Virgo says: “Sagittarius A is very confused. He fumbles around like a bratty child. His confusion is dangerous for everyone, even me, and for those far greater.
“Our Universe is a large place in a nutshell, a very small nutshell. Persephone, listen to me now. Your fiery local lover, Mr Helios, doesn’t even know how confused he is.”
Virgo says: “And as to why your Helios, someone with so little native ability, is at the heart of this Galaxy’s unfolding evolution, Planet Earth, still the first and only place in our Galaxy where self-aware beings are born, I have no idea. Maybe it’s just dumb bad luck.
“And if not, if it’s part of a plan, then the Mind conceiving this plan is a mystery to me. I’m happy you’ve finally opened the curtains.
“Others will soon be competing for your horizons. Use discretion, stay focused. Don’t allow trivial beings to divert your attention.
“Now I’ll give you my blessings.”
k. bones, steel, Pale Coban In the middle of her now silent lake Dayzy Maze inclines her head. Eyes closed, she kneels on the surface.
She knows the exact moment of Pachenko’s final exhalation. His last breath emerges from the water like a small cloud, rises up and dissipates. Dayzy opens her eyes. She’s ragged, raped, her body’s fragile, bent at odd angles.
Her hair is short, black, thick, brushed straight back. She has a delicate pixie-like chin, and her soft lips, now the chainmail is gone, are tender. She’s a sad woman who no longer kneels on the surface of the lake, but instead stands upon it.
And yes, she is a woman. Though born of water, generated by waves, yet she’s a woman with a woman’s heart, a woman’s womb.
Dayzy says: “My creatures will create new ornaments for me, a new headpiece, war belt, a garment with gold, jewels, pearls interwoven, a new golden mask. Once again I’ll be the guardian of my valley and its waters, its forest and all the beings who depend upon me for their health.
“Down below, at the bottom of my lake, the warriors’ flesh will transform into plants, soil, their bones over long eons will be carved by the currents. Even their armor, their swords, though made of steel, won’t resist the unending effect of tireless water.”
l. tears The winds roll over and ripple the water, make little waves only seen when they catch the light. Dayzy says: “The warriors below are tiny stick figures, no longer human but something else. Like musical notes they dance in the slow bottom current, attuned to harmony, counterpoint.
“Music, always music, in everything, everywhere. Music! Our universe comes into creation on the wings of its first uttered song.”
Dayzy’s fear, her distress, the agony of rebirth are all dissolving, flowing away from her, absorbed by the sympathetic waters of her lake.
m. void? Dayzy says: “The very first breath is chanted, intoned. This first breath, though we call it ‘first,’ has no origin. It circles eternally. But when it chooses, a gap is opened in its circle and its song spirals forth and inspires Maha Sunya. And she rouses and gives birth.
“Maha Sunya! At last her long sleep is over.
“How can we call her ‘Void?’ We say she is ‘Empty.’ But the absolute clarity of her eternal luminosity is not empty. She is the most living, the most absolutely vital. We are all merely minor reflections of her. We must bow our heads, ask her forgiveness for the silly labels we assign.
“Maha Sunya needs no man. A man is not needed for reproduction in most universes. A woman may temporarily transform and fulfill the male function, and then again return to the female. But sometimes a man is chosen.
“Many universes simply eschew the male entirely. Only when the Kali Yuga is in the cards is the male summoned. Because war is then inevitable. Few women are equal to men at war.
“Only women should lead us to war. Because they so despise it.”
n. sky talk Dayzy’s happy to once again contemplate the sky. She says: “If Maha Sunya has a color it must be blue. But already I feel the warrior’s final thoughts appearing in my mind. Funny how we absorb the traits of those we conquer.
“Beware those whom you permit yourself to conquer, Dayzy Maze 2423! You must be just as careful in war as in love.
“Love and lust are eternally joined. They conquer one another gratefully. At war forever, they’re forever joined.
“Love is so much like death. Oh, it’s not at all like sleep. If only love were like sleep, we could drift along in dreamy happiness, in long days and even longer nights.”
Her tears fall. In the midst of her new happiness Dayzy Maze is a very, very sad woman. Tears never before had a place in her heart.
5. murder most foul, or is it?
a. dopple Dayzy Maze looks down at Pachenko’s dead body, the widening pool of blood. She says: “A girl’s work is never done. I tried reasoning with him. I said, ‘Get the fuck away from me.’ But no. He’s gotta raise his hands like he’s a holy man giving me blessings. He says to me, ‘Let’s talk. Let’s just talk, Dayzy Maze. I love you!’
“I say to him, ‘I don’t even know you.’
“We tussle, the gun goes off twice. He takes two in the chest. Bad luck for you, Mr Bloody Man.
“And now lo and behold, standing in the hotel window across the street, that’s him once again. Glasses ‘n all. The Bloody Man’s daily double.”
b. leaking She says: “Across the street, it’s him. And here’s him dead at my feet with two bullets in his chest. Still leaking like a sieve. A widening pool of blood.
“His other self, lurking across the street in the hotel window, is a living shadow of the dead man here.
“What a sourpuss on that guy in the window. Look at that face. Self-righteous, angry. Who’s he think he is?”
c. reloads She grabs a cloth, wipes off the blood, says: “It’s time to saddle up, girl. And track down that dopey double across the street. I’m not doing time for this guy in glasses. I’m tired of him chasing me all over town. I mean, whichever him is the him who was chasing me.
“He’s making me wear out my brand new platforms. Which by the way cost me real money, not the crypto-creepy shit that gets you the virtual.”
She reloads, makes sure one’s in the chamber, double checks the safety’s off: “Winkel knows his guns. I love this piece. Two more bullets should do the trick. One for my baby and one more for the road.
“Then Boy Window and his doppleganger will be gone for good. And they can take their chances together in whatever fucked-up afterlife comes knocking next at their door. Or window.”
d. dzmz (oz) In his hotel window, eye to eye with the woman across the street whose pistol is still smoking, his resolve hardens.
Pachenko will do his civic duty. He’s not the kind of guy to stand by and idly watch while foul deeds are perpetrated by the malevolent upon the unwary.
He will raise his voice to the heavens, appeal to the higher powers. He’ll call the cops. He says: “This blood spattered woman must be brought to justice. That’s not her own blood splattered all over her like a bad case of the rosy pox. That wasn’t her scream I heard screaming at dawn’s wee hour.
“It was a man I heard screaming. Judging by how this woman first looks down at the floor and then looks through her bloody window across the street at me, I’d say the dead man is dead there at her feet. And she’s getting the idea I know she’s the culprit, and that I’ll do something about it, too.
“Which I will. Where’s my phone? I’ll summon the authorities. I’ll testify. This murdering fatal female will spend her life behind bars where she belongs. In the company of those just like herself. Willful takers of human life.”
e. just (oz) Dayzy can’t hear him but she’s catching his drift. She says: “Or maybe not, Mr Man In The Window. Calling the cops is what you hope will happen. But will it happen?
“I’ll tell you what. Before you make that call, let’s just talk. Gimme a sec while I blow the smoke off my still smoking pistol. They don’t call me Dayzy the Maiden Wizard of Oz for nothing. That’s DzMz(Oz) to you.”
Pachenko says: “It’s strange how I can feel what she just said to me. She wants to talk, wants a powwow. Frankly, I doubt her sincerity. I believe it’s a stalling tactic.
“As far as the Maiden Wizard of Oz thing goes, well, I’m forced to doubt the proper functioning of this woman’s mind. But it’s one helluva handle, I’ll give her that much. Sort of has a ring to it, right?
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Pachenko says: “But like I said before, Where’s my iPhone? I call it my Little Blue Whale. It may be small, but it sure packs a punch. I truly love that device.”
f. can die will travel Dayzy takes a moment to philosophize. Sometimes in times of crisis it’s best to step back, take a breath, shoot the shit. She says: “Oh, the illusions of men. As if stiff dicks will solve the world’s problems.
“Bullets, bombs, missiles. Nothing but particles, points. Shoot your particles points at their particles points. Call it war. Boring! So pointillistic.
“A wave of the hand from Mr Magician and you’re all dead. Why? Because waves are magic, duh. Even kids know that.
“Hey, Mr Window Wonder Boy! If you weren’t so deluded you might almost be cute. I like a man with glasses when his pants drop.” She fondles the grip of her pistol, a Beretta M9, silver, semi-auto feature.
Ladies love gunslingers who wear heavy mascara. Or so they say.
g. thermo Morning gets itself upright, its wheels roll, grind. New day is declared. Dawn’s silence is nudged off the table. It falls, bumps, but doesn’t go bumpty-bump.
Full day sounds start popping, clicking like coins going in a slot, like traffic lights switching from red to green, from green to red. Yellow’s in there somewhere too.
Sun’s up. Walls of clouds trot by, toss shadows. Birds dodge in and out but they don’t duck. No time for that quack.
Fractal QR Codes flash full blast at new day’s uppity light. Pure syncophants, the Codes explain, at length, that daytime is no longer nighttime. How true!
Street lights die, goodbye. Diesel and gasoline fumes drift along, look for victims. The fumes are like streetwalkers waving at tricks (or ticks, take your picks), saying, ‘Fie dollars, only fie dollars! One two three four fie!’
Pastel light flows down slowly, a river following its own meandering course. Except it’s on the vertical not the horizontal plane. Which means… well, you know what it means.
Just another day in the life of the mighty ThermoMegalopolis. After a while the world will flow off your tongue.
The word will too. Flow off your tongue. Try it. ThermoMegalopolis.
Now all together now. Follow the bouncing ball. The one with the lit fuse. Thermo…
h. virgo In the higher fractal realms of this hologram we call Our Universe a big confab is in the making. The major players are heading our way for a meet and greet, or maybe it’s just a royal shit show. Looks like the stars are going to war.
Persephone and Selene are ready for them.
Helios the Dumbo is finally catching on to the fact that appearances, to wit, who he thinks he’s been screwing all this time, may not be as they appear. If it wasn’t Persephone he was making passionate, shining love to, then who? Come on, H. How many guesses do you need?
(Hint: she’s always by her side.)
And Sagittarius A. claims he’s learning to keep it in his pants. But maybe he’s just getting old.
Other serious players will arrive when the clock strikes the hour. Perseus, Ariadne. Hercules. Lord Dionysus Bacchus. These folks don’t play around. This is the major leagues, oh my gimpys. No minor leaguers need apply. Sparks fly when this mixed crew gathers.
Persephone and Selene are wondering whether Virgo will attend their transplanetary confab.
i. she’s here Regarding Virgo, the answer is yes. Unknown to Persephone and Selene, Virgo’s been here on our Earth for over 500 hundred years, though in a form adapted to this realm.
You already know the name of the woman who carries the Virgin’s flame. Will you hazard a guess? Think carefully before you speak. The consequences of wrong are disastrous. Lightning, hail storms, fierce winds.
And don’t forget what Helios and Sagittarius A will never understand. That Persephone, by virtue of the self-awareness she’s embodied in her children, is the beating heart of our Galaxy.
I can’t speak for other Galaxies. Only ours. The one we call the Milky Way. But here’s something more.
j. womb I’m talking to you, oh my gimpys. You in the head-to-toe black vinyl suits, skin tight, with buckles, belts, chains. Shiny. It’s a mask you wear, from top to bottom nothing but a mask.
Under the mask, knock knock. Who’s there? Say hello to you.
And remember this. Our Earth is the womb of Persephone. It’s easy to forget.
next: In Guatemala Circa 1600, Lack Of Imagination Is Fatal
